SCP: Crossroads
by autobotgirl12328
Summary: [Sequel]. It appears my adventure with the foundation is not yet done. Even with someone I consider a friend, I'm not sure I'm ready for more. It's not like I have a choice.
1. I

I

I hate everything and everyone. I hunched over the wheel, struggling to keep my eyes open. It wasn't late, in fact it was the opposite. It was late morning. I groaned, glancing to my right. Thompson was slumped in his chair, hat down to cover his eyes, feet on the dash, and arms crossed over his chest. I snarled, turning back to the road ahead. It felt like we'd been driving forever.

"Thompson!" I snapped, shoving his legs off the dash.

He perked, hat slipping off his face and arms unfolding. Stretching and giving a yawn, he glanced over at me. He was tired too. Seeing no emergency, he readjusted his hat and slunched back over. I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"Don't complain. It's your shift," he grumbled. "I drive at night. You drive during the day. Sun's up. You drive."

"I'm tired," I whimpered.

"Me too."

I groaned again, glaring at him. He winked at me.

"I hate you," I growled.

He grinned, tilting his hat down to cover his eyes again. The road was even for the most part, making the drive primarily smooth sailing. It was a sun-bleached grey, coated in recently blackened tar pits. Either side was swaying grass in endless fields. Wired fences blocked the road from the grass, shimmering in the rising sunlight. The clouds overhead parted the sun frequently, darkening and relighting the cabin of our jeep.

"Where are we even going?" I grumbled, leaning back in my chair.

"SCP location," he replied.

"Meaning?"

"A SCP that is too big to contain, typically located in a specific area. We're going around and checking the containment of these and making sure protocol is being followed and not 'laxed in any way."

"How long are we doing this?"

"Hopefully, until the site is rebuilt. Likely, until we die."

"Fun."

There was a faint clatter from somewhere farther away. Leaning forward, I spotted a large, grey cloud moving toward us. I groaned, slumping back into my chair. Rain. The day was looking out to be so nice and quiet. Thunder echoed from the distance.

I felt something run down my back, compression against my chest. My fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles turning white. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Red flashes. Darkened hall. Sirens. The shadows at the end of the hall parted, revealing sunken eyes staring at me. I couldn't move. A low growl as something reached out toward me. I couldn't turn away. It was closing in, long fingers nearing my face.

"Hey!"

I felt Thompson jerk the wheel as our tires scrapped along the edge of the road. My body bowed forward, head hitting the wheel. The car rumbled, bumping off the gravel onto the grass. Narrowly, we avoided the fence, slowing to a stop. I was panting, feeling the air rush in and out of my lungs. Thompson was still gripping the wheel, but I could feel his eyes on me. Silence.

"Maybe," Thompson eventually sighed, pulling away from the wheel. "Maybe, I should drive."

"No," I gulped, leaning off the wheel, "I'm fine. I'm fine now."

Thompson grabbed the gear shift, slamming it forward to park, and ripped the keys out of the ignition. The purr of the engine puttered to a stop, allowing the chirps and winds of nature to grow in volume. Thompson sighed again, jingling the keys in his hand. I was still gripping the wheel. They had relaxed some, no longer turning my knuckles white, but my nails dug into the fabric, cutting into it with all my force.

"Move," ordered Thompson.

"I told you I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I'm fine!"

I don't know why I shouted. I slammed my hands on the wheel for emphasis. I clenched my teeth, wrapping my fingers into a fist over the horn. My palms were sweaty. I wasn't even all that warm, why was I sweating? Thompson scoffed, unbuckling and opening his door. I could hear his footsteps in the long grass as he rounded the car. Reaching my side, he threw open my door. I didn't move.

"Get out."

"I'm…fine."

He rolled his eyes, leaning over my chest and unbuckling me. He gripped my arm. I flinched. Why was I so scared? His grip relaxed on my arm, but it still wrapped around me. I sighed.

"I'll drive the rest of the way," he mumbled. "We're almost there, anyway."

"I can do it," I whimpered.

"I know," he whispered, "but it's okay if you can't."

I removed my hands from the wheel, slumping in my seat. I looked over at him. I had grown so used to seeing Thompson in his white lab coat and uniform, but now that we were out in the field, our uniforms have changed. A tan, sleeveless jacket, pale undershirt, brown pants and a black hat with the foundation logo. I was dressed similarly, though without the jacket. Perhaps that was because I still under his authority. I had forgotten the whole class and level system but it still seems I'm a rank lower than him. Maybe, I always will.

"C'mon," he hummed, motioning out of the car. "We're almost there anyway."

"You didn't exactly say where we're going," I smiled, slowly getting out of the car.

"1983, I think," he shrugged, slipping around me to get into the driver's seat. "This is your first Keter, right?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I gasped. "We're going to a **Keter** level SCP?"

Thompson smiled and closed the door. I gulped.


	2. II

II

What I expected from a Keter level SCP was something big and scary, something that could kill you just by looking at it. What I wasn't expecting was a one-story farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The closest structure was a chemical plant down the road, which was actually a foundation front so as to keep an eye on the farm house. We drove around the perimeter, seeing the house from a distance. It looked as though it had been deserted for years, worn by wind and rain. The roof seemed to be barely holding on, the porch sinking into the mud and windows blacked out.

Entering the chemical plant, it was a lot like the foundation site before. White walls, white floors, the smell of sterilization. We were greeted by two guards who verified us three times before allowing us in. Upon entering, we were given a holster and a pistol. Thompson put in on quick and easy, but I struggled. I'd never wielded a gun in my life, so I never really needed a holster before. Thompson adjusted the straps and explained the process. The guard offered to put it on for me but Thompson was adamantly against it. I think he was still worried about what happened in the car.

Guided through the halls, we didn't come across very many others. It was like a ghost town, silent aside from the echoing of our footsteps. Thompson frequently glanced back at me. Eventually, we entered a large room with monitors and at least three people. They were dressed in the old familiar white uniforms. They didn't bother to look up as we entered.

"See those monitors?" Thompson pointed to the line of screens. "They're along the fence we drove around."

"None in the house?"

"Can't."

One of the scientists approached us, offering his hand. Thompson shook it. I reached out to shake as well but the man pulled away after shaking Thompson's hand. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little insulted. He motioned for us to get closer to the screens. They were boring shots of different angles of the farmhouse, each in greying color and flickering quality. With the mass expansion of the foundation, you'd think they could spring for some better equipment.

"We're just hear to check the system," Thompson nodded. "Anything happen recently?"

"No, sir," the man sighed. "Haven't had a problem in more than a year. Been keeping people away and keeping those damn monsters from the fence."

"Fair enough," mumbled Thompson, coughing a little. "No explorations, right?"

"Of course. We're waiting for headquarters to send us some Ds to begin testing again. We can't afford to lose anyone out here."

"I understand that," chuckled Thompson, nudging me. I smiled by didn't reply.

"There has been something, sir," the man groaned, looking away. Thompson straightened up, demeanor changing to a more serious tone.

"We think the town may have been compromised," the man sighed.

"Compromised how?"

The man looked at me. His eyes were dark, placed deep in his skull with a thick forehead. His lip curled as he scoffed, turning back to Thompson. Couldn't tell if he was being sexist or classist. Thompson had warned me that some of the field positions were more elitist when it came to class and ranks. I guess this was what he was talking about.

"Compromised how?" snapped Thompson.

"Insurgence," the man whispered. "We're worried the…defectors might be attempting to get in."

"Proof?"

He motioned to the monitors again.

"We've had sensors go off around the fence. Same point. Same time. Like clockwork. Haven't caught them yet, but the cameras have them."

Thompson glanced at me before returning to the man.

"And you're sure it's the Insurgency?"

"They have the uniforms and insignias of foundation personnel," he gulped. "Only the Insurgency could have such access."

Thompson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I had no idea what they were talking about. If it was truly important, I expected it to be kept from me. If it was really important, Thompson would tell me about it later. With a groan, Thompson put his hands on his hips, looking over all the screens. The man nodded, glancing at me. He snarled his lip. I wanted to punch him.

"When do they show up?" Thompson asked, drawing the man's attention.

"Soon, sir."

"Where?" Thompson grabbed me by the arm, leading me toward the door.

"North sector. Section 27," called the man. "Should I send our troops?"

"Wait for my signal," Thompson instructed, waving to the man.

We began down the hall, footsteps echoing in our silence. He released my arm, crossing his arms over his chest. He let out a heavy sigh, the kind that someone does when they want to talk but want someone to start it. I groaned, rolling my eyes, but offered him a smile.

"What are we doing?" I chuckled, gesturing over the hall.

"We're gonna either catch some punks or we're gonna surprise some enemies," grinned Thompson, winking at me.

"Enemies?"

"You think a foundation like ours had no enemies?" he laughed, hardy but mostly fake sounding. "We've got plenty!"

"And what's the _Insurgency_?"

"The Chaos Insurgency," he hummed, puffing his chest, "are traitors to the foundation." He waved a finger at me. "They were once part of the black ops but decided they'd rather abuse the SCPs rather than contain them."

"How do you use an SCP the size of a house?"

"We probably should've read the file," mumbled Thompson, rubbing his chin. "It doesn't look like all that much so it either makes or traps."

"Makes?"

"Now, now, my lovely assistance! You must know that some SCPs create new ones!"

He seemed so proud of himself in this conversation. It was the first time in a while I'd seen him in a cocky mood. Since we'd left the hospital after what happened at the foundation site, he'd been kind of down and more serious. I still remember him in the hospital, holding a gun to me. He was willing to kill me. That's something I couldn't quite shake.

"I'll drive!" he cheered as we stepped outside, spinning the keys on his finger.

"No," I huffed. "It's still day, I get to drive."

He looked at me, eyes narrowed and lip pursed. I tried puffing my chest to give the air of confidence as he had before and yet I couldn't help but feel my expression betrayed me. He rolled his eyes, swinging the keys to me. Grasping them in my hands, I smiled at him.

"Keep us on the road this time," he joked, but I could see the twinge in his lip. He was worried again.


	3. III

III

By the urgent request of Thompson, I floored the jeep and drove us around the perimeter fence. Dirt kicked up behind us as the jeep wobbled on the unstable ground. Thompson gripped the overhead handle, the one no one really knows what it's for, while his other hand clutched the seat. I was leaned over the wheel, grinning as he drove. I felt wild and free, mostly enjoying the expression on Thompson's face. I'd never seen his eyes so wide.

"Stop!" he shouted.

I slammed on the brake, shifting the car forward slightly as it stopped, throwing us forward. The seatbelts caught us, stopping us and shoving us back. Gasping, Thompson slumped in his chair. I chuckled, looking around. I hadn't driven that recklessly in my life. Then again, I was reminded of our daring escape from the facility. This was far more fun than the previous, perhaps because life and death were less at stake.

Thompson opened the door, wearily getting out. He looked like he was going to throw up. I laughed as he bent over, holding his side. He glared at me, but he couldn't help but smile. Leaving the jeep, we walked along the fence. All seemed fine, though some of the wire had been bent and melted back together. Thompson ran his fingers along the fence, listening to the odd sound it created. I hadn't heard this kind of sound since I was a kid.

"What are we doing?" I hummed, looking up at the sky. The clouds were rolling, grey and dark. I'd forgotten about the incoming rain.

"We're looking for trespassers," he nodded.

"Why do we have guns?"

"Hang on."

He dug into his vest's pocket, pulling out a packet of papers. Flipping through the pages, he ran his finger along the words before stopped at what he was looking for. He nodded, looking back to me.

"Silver bullets," he instructed. "Only thing that stops the monsters SCP-1983 creates. Gotta shoot and pray."

"Pray? To what?"

"Doesn't say." He flipped through some of the pages again. "Just says you've gotta mean it."

"If I have to shoot a gun, I'm pretty sure I'll mean it," I shrugged.

"Fair enough."

There was a jingle in the fence line, shifting and swaying it. Looking at each other a moment, we took off down the line. In the distance, we could see a figure with a large tool, chipping away at the wire. He was dressed in black, and I'm talking everything on his was black. He heard our footsteps and looked up. Dropping the cutters, he pressed a finger to his ear, no doubt contacting others.

"Stop!" Thompson called out.

Without hesitation, the man stood up with a gun in one hand. He fired two shots. My feet stopped and I felt my heart skip. Thompson ran ahead of me. Obviously, the gunshots missed us. Still, I was frozen. Why couldn't I move? Thompson ran closer, though the man didn't move. A few more gunshots, but Thompson didn't stop. He tackled the man, the two of them crumbling to the ground.

"Thompson!"

I urged my feet to move, but it hurt so much. It was like move cement blocks. Running burned my legs, strained my heart. I wanted to cry. What was wrong with me? Thompson and the man were rolling in the dirt, struggling for control of the gun. Another gun shot, but the gun was pointed upward. I reached them, feet skidding in the dirt. There was a loud crash overhead. It began to sprinkle.

"Give. Me. The. Damn. Gun!" hissed Thompson, pinching the man's hand until the gun was released. It scuffed in the dirt, splattering in the newly rising mud.

I heard tires in the mud, splashing us dust and dirt. Looking over, I was in the headlights of a black truck. The doors opened, and someone jumped out. I felt frozen again, listening to my heart beating in my ears. The shadowed figure raised their arm. Another gun.

"Thompson! Gun!" I gasped, throwing myself down.

This gun was much more than a pistol, at least by how fast it fired. The ricochet off the fence, jingling as metal hit metal. Covering my head, I shut my eyes in hopes of this all being a bad dream. Just my luck, this was all too real. I looked over, watching Thompson and the other man getting to their feet. Thompson kicked the gun he'd gotten out of the man's hand across the dirt, caking it in mud.

The gun firing at me slowed to a stop. I uncovered my head, glancing at the shooter. The shadow was turning toward Thompson, large gun primed and ready. Thompson was quick, the kind that you see in a western. He unclipped his holster, pulling out the pistol and firing in a swift single motion. The bullets fired, clicking off the truck. The shadow let out a yelp, collapsing to the ground. Thompson grinned.

"Get him before…"

The man knocked Thompson upside the head. With a groan, Thompson buckled, holding his head. Picking up his gun, the man aimed to shoot Thompson. Shaking, I pulled my pistol out and aimed. Thompson lifted his head and nodded.

"Shoot!" he ordered.

The man froze, looking at me. A moment pause, drenched in the rain and slowly being caked in mud, we remained in silence. Eventually, the man tapped his ear piece. He growled, shoving the gun into his pants. I crawled over to Thompson as the man dashed to his ally. He helped the other to his feet, aiding him into the truck. Together, they took off, kicking up mud and skidding away.

"Thompson," I whimpered, hand on his back. "I'm sorry."

He glared at me, lip snarled as he held his head. Red slipped through his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he turned away.

"Get the jeep," he snarled.

"Thompson, I…"

"Get the jeep!"


	4. IV

A/N

Sorry for the delay on chapters and sorry this chapter is so short! I'm still trying to figure out the direction of this story. Also, I'm deciding whether or not to turn this series into a comic.

IV

Thompson didn't talk to me when we drove back to the site. He held the back of his head, wincing in pain on occasion but didn't make a sound. His eyes were narrowed, looking around as if debating in his mind. He groaned, shaking his head. Whatever he was thinking didn't end well apparently, as he leaned back in the chair. We arrived back to the site with guards waiting for us.

"Sir, are you okay?" one of the guards perked, noting the blood seeping between Thompson's fingers.

"What do you think?" snarled Thompson, storming pass.

I mouthed sorry to the guard as I skipped up to join Thompson. Our wet snickers squeaked against the tile floor, leaving a muddy trail behind us. Thompson threw open the main doors, catching the attention of everyone inside. The scientist rushed over to us, stuttering and gasping while trying to form sentences. Thompson pushed him aside.

"Get me a phone. I'm calling in to have your security improved," Thompson grumbled, finding the nearest phone. "These guys aren't just random thugs. They're after something and won't take this little mess as anything more than a minor setback."

"Was it the insurgence?" gasped the man.

"Doesn't matter right now."

Thompson tapped several buttons for the phone, pressing it to his ear and waited. The scientist gave him a worrying look before turning to me with a raise of his noise. I could feel his distaste for me. I didn't like me right now either. Why couldn't I have fired? Thompson needed me in that moment. There was a gun to his head. Why couldn't I do anything?

"Perhaps my guards should've assisted you," scoffed the scientist. "They are far better protection than some uncultured class…"

Thompson slammed the phone down. He spun around, grabbing the scientist by the collar. The blood that lingered on his fingers leaked onto the white robes of the scientist. I could see the fire in his eyes as he bared teeth. It was like watching a predator pin its prey, leaving both frozen in a moment of pure adrenaline and tension. I could hear Thompson breathe, shoulder's heaving as he released each breath. Eventually, he shut his eyes, rolled his head back a little and released the man. Stepping away, Thompson returned to the phone, redialed and again put the phone to his ear. No one spoke again.

"Hello?" Thompson hummed as the other line. "Yes, 9898…Outpost 54…I'll hold."

Silence.

"Hello. 9898 review for Outpost 54 on SCP-1983: further security required. Several attempted break-ins. Possible Insurgency activity."

Silence.

"Understood…Field agents will resume to next assignment."

Thompson hung up, turning around to us. The scientist flinched as Thompson approached. Walking passed the frightened scientist, Thompson stopped in front of me. He looked like a void, empty and emotionless as he looked at me. He sighed, rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Nothing more we can really do here," he yawned.

"Thompson," I whispered. "Your head…"

"Hmm?" he patted his head a little. Despite the initial wincing, he smiled at me. "It stopped bleeding so I'm sure it'll be fine."

"That…that's not how it works," I groaned.

"W-w-w-what about the insurgency?" the scientist whimpered.

"They'll send you reinforcements tomorrow. Until then, put guards at that point in fence," Thompson instructed, refusing to turn around and simply talking over his shoulder. "We've got other assignments to check on."

"At least put a bandage on!" I argued.

He waved me off, walking away. His saunter was back, confidently walking down the hall like everything that just happened didn't. When something like this happens, it typically means he's about to have a sadistic moment, assuming what just happened with the scientist wasn't that episode. I sheepishly looked at the scientist before leaving. For a head wound, Thompson moved surprisingly fast and was already waiting for me in the car.

The rain was still heavy, leaving us both soaked as we sat in the car. He drove, hands wringing the wheel frequently as he sighed deeply. I watched him as he stared deeply out the windshield, watching the water splatter against the glass and the wipers swat them away. He bit his lip and snarled.

"I don't get you," he hissed.

"What?"

"I don't get you!" he shouted, glancing at me. "Back at the site, you survived the plague doctor, you stood up against the 173, survived the breach, even went back in for a stupid fucking book! You drove a truck through a wall! After all that, you can't shoot a fucking gun to help a guy out?!" he shouted, leaning over the wheel.

"I…I'm sorry."

"All you had to do…was shoot the guy."

"I…I'm sorry."

"Stop. Saying. That."

"I don't know what you want me to say," I whispered. "I couldn't shoot."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

"I don't know."

He let out a deep sigh, the kind that was a borderline growl. He leaned back, twisting his neck. I looked out the window, watching the soggy scenery go by. He had a point. After all I'd been through, you'd think I would've been able to fire a simple gun, especially to save someone. This partnership wasn't what either of us were expecting, I think, then again, my life after joining the Foundation wasn't actually planned.


	5. V

V

I knew it was a dream. I knew it wasn't real. Yet…It felt so real. The world around me, the dark forest. The trees stretched upward for miles, clothed in unnatural shades of dark purple and the deepest blues. The sky was hidden under the roof of dead leaves. The ground was muddy, dragging my bare feet further into the earth. The shadows called out to me in a language I couldn't understand. It was all too familiar and yet unnaturally different. I screamed but something was quick to cover my mouth.

A being of shadow, no face, no expression, simply darkness. Its long fingers wrapped around my mouth, silencing me. My eyes stared at him, watering under the pressure of my beating heart. The world around me seemed to be shrinking as the dark creature stepped closer, pressing another lanky hand upon my chest. Suddenly, all I could hear was screaming. His hand pressed against me, tightening as if it was digging straight into my body, grasping at my heart. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

 _"Follow this path…"_

I could hardly keep my eyes open. I could feel my body hardening. It took all my strength to look down at the hand digging into me. At that center, my body was turning grey, literally turning to stone. It moved up my body, through my veins. I could feel my eyes watering. I was dying. The stone crept along my body, freezing me and climbing up my neck. My mouth was still open, begging to scream, but nothing came out. Soon, the stone was creeping into my throat. The being leaned in close to me.

 _"…you die…"_

When I was finally able to scream, to breathe again, I was sitting up in bed. My fists were tightened around my covers so hard my knuckles were white. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face, my chest, my body. Sweat and tears. I had ripped and thrashed in my covers during that nightmare so hard that most of them were on the floor or the remnants were held in my grip. My gasps began calming to a normal sense of breath.

Readjust. Recenter. I took in a deep breath, leaning back against the bed frame. It was nighttime. Of course. I had been asleep after all. The motel room wasn't much, exactly as you'd expect. I glanced to the second bed. Thompson was still sound asleep, buried under three blankets and two pillows. He snored, but luckily it was barely noticeable. Luckily, I didn't wake him. Again.

I decided to step out. I needed fresh air. The night was late; the air was sweet, drifting the scent of fallen rain; but there was nothing around. The motel was a cheap one, as one would expect from the only building for miles on this dry stretch of back road. There were no other residents. Only two vehicles parked: the owner and the Foundation jeep. In the back, or what one might consider the back, was an empty swimming pool, filled with dirt, mud, rain water, and leaves. The leaves were the strangest part as there were no trees for miles.

I sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling. I could still feel my heart beating in my chest, but I could also still feel the shadow creature's hand deep inside me. I knew it was a dream but the effects were lingering. I placed a hand to my chest, trying to feel the hole inside me. I wanted to wake up from this. How annoying.

"You look like you could use a drink."

I looked up, spotting someone on the other side of the pool. A young woman: skinny, short multicolored hair, dark blue lipsticks, dark eyeshadow, dressed in a black, long-sleeve crop top, a black choker, long black skinny jeans, and steel toed boots. She smiled lightly, winking at me and waving me over. She…looked familiar.

"Where did you…" I mumbled, looking around.

"Doesn't matter," she shrugged, beginning to walk around the pool edge. "Just wanted a talk."

"Who are you?"

A sudden sense of panic hit me like a ton of bricks. I leapt to my feet. There were only two cars though. There shouldn't be anyone else here…

"Me? Forget about me so soon?" she hummed, waving me off. "I guess it has been a while, and we've both been through a lot since then. Let's start from scratch. Names June."

June. Familiar.

"I…I'm…" my voice stuttered. I forgot what was I supposed to say.

"Don't worry about it if you can't remember," she whispered. "For a while there…I forgot my name too…"

She stopped, looking off into the distance. The darkness seemed never-ending and yet she stared out as if communicating with something in the shadows. After a moment, she grinned and turned back to me. The darkness must've answered her. She clicked her heels together, hands behind her back. The shadows complimented her, making her one with them. She seemed like the queen of darkness.

"What are you…doing here?" I whimpered. "I'm confused…"

"Once upon a time," she yawned. "a couple idiots signed their lives away. The problem with that is…" she grinned. "the collection process didn't quite go in when it came to me."

"I don't understand."

"That's because I'm being cryptic," she giggled. "Sheesh, way to the take the suspense and adventure out of this."

"Are you…with the insurgency?"

That seemed to hit a nerve. Her smile flipped sharply into a snarl and narrowed eyes. She scoffed, running a hand through her hair. With a sigh, she shrugged it off and smiled again. She pointed toward the darkness, indicating for something to come forward. Lights came on suddenly, blinding me. A car approached, parking beside June.

"I just wanted to stop by for a chat, but I think you're not ready for that yet," she hummed, getting into the car. "Next time, sweetie!"

The door closed silently, and the car took off quickly. I stood at the edge of the pool, feeling the breeze wrap around my legs and chill my body. The smell of rain was fading as the front was changing. Now, it was getting cold. Very cold. I huddled myself, moving back toward the room. I think I'm ready to go back to bed.


	6. VI

VI

The weather was slowly getting colder, reminding us that winter was fast approaching no matter what direction we traveled. The problem was that neither of us were equipped for the weather in our standard Foundation uniform. Thompson tried to make the winter uniform for field agents sound more impressive than it probably was. It would no doubt be the same monochrome outfit just long sleeved and puffy. I was never a fan of winter wear. I'd rather suffer in what I was in. Thompson on the other hand hated the cold with a passion stronger than a hurricane.

"It's fuckin' freezing," he snarled, digging his hands under his arm pits as we exited the jeep. "Why can't we be sent to somewhere sunny?"

"I thought…I thought we were going to Florida or something eventually?" I prompted, locking the car.

"That's not right now!"

We were currently looking into the security for the site of SCP-026. There was a minor facility in town that recorded and preformed general maintenance of the site, but the likelihood of breaking into this SCP was extremely rare and typically nonlethal unless repeated. Before checking in on the main site, we were visiting the small facility, which was managed by a single man.

The little compound was dressed up like a grandparent's house: strange flowered wallpaper, outdated carpet, wooden framed pictures of happy families. There were small waiting chairs by the door, which we sat patiently for a while after ringing the small bell on the desk. A few moments later, an elderly man came out with a bright smile. His eyes were covered by thick glasses, but his eyes were still tightly narrowed as he squinted at us.

"Hello, may I help you?" the man hummed, opening the small gate between the waiting room and the area behind the desk.

"We're field agents here to assess the site of 026," Thompson nodded, shaking the man's hand.

"Ah, yes, I heard you were coming," the man agreed. "Come back here. I'll show you some of the feeds."

The further back into the building we went the less it looked like an old folk's home and more it looked like the standard Foundation site. White walls. Tile floors. No windows. No life. We reached a small room with a single metal desk that had a small, black-and-white television and a cup of coffee. The old man offered us two other cups. They looked dirty. We declined.

"Has there been any activity recently?" Thompson sighed, looking at the small screen.

"Just a few kids every now and then but the fence and alarms tend to keep them out. Those that do go in, I give them their dues when they leave."

While this line was supposed to be intimidating, coming from this old man it just seemed sad. It was like a grandparent talking about their glory days and how they fought. This man did not seem capable of giving anything but hugs. Nonetheless, Thompson nodded.

"Alright, we'll do a check around the fence, check the alarms and everything before we head out," Thompson yawned, moving me toward the door.

"Have you slept well?"

Thompson and I stopped in the doorway, staring at the man. He looked genuinely considered. Seeing us silent and confused, he rushed over and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Thompson looked at me, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged. The coffee pot began hissing, and the man came back over to us.

"You know about 26? You know what it does to people?" the man whispered.

"I've got the dissertation in the car," shrugged Thompson.

"Don't go in tired…you can't be fallin' asleep in that building, you hear me?"

The coffee pot made a sound indicating that the brew was done. The man rushed over and poured two cups. Thompson groaned but accepted the mug when it was handed to him. I also accepted mine, but I offered a smile and a nod. The man seemed relieved when I took a sip. I hate coffee, but I knew it would make him feel better. Thompson set his mug aside, much to the others dismay.

"You fall asleep," the man grumbled. "You might not wake up again."

"That a threat?" Thompson huffed.

"No, sir," the man gaped. He paused, looking toward his small television. "It's a promise." He looked back to us, shaking his head. "Read the file. You'll understand. Just…be careful out there, right?"

Thompson took the mug from me, setting it beside his on the table. He was leaned against me as he began pushing toward the door. The old man shuffled behind us, stopping by the counter out front as we exited. The winter air hit hard against our unprotected bodies. I could feel Thompson's grip tighten on me, probably not on purpose but simple reflex from the cold. Jumping into the car, we took a moment to sit as the vehicle heated up. Thompson took this time to get out the file.

"Alright then," Thompson mumbled, holding the pages in one hand while he pressed the other against the vent. "SCP-026…Euclid. Locked and boarded at all times. Any entry will alert the Foundation."

"W-w-what is it?" I stuttered, rubbing my hands together. Until the car properly heated up it was mostly just pumping cold air back at us.

"Uh…" he flipped the page, quite skillfully with one hand. "Three story public school building."

"It's a school?" I groaned.

"Two wings, center foyer. Condemned. Possible spatial anomaly."

"That it?" I perked.

"Huh?"

"Spatial anomaly? That's it? Nothing crazy is gonna jump out and kill us? No shoot and pray?"

Thompson flipped through the pages, this time using his second hand so as to keep the paper in the provided folder. The air was beginning to heat up, allowing us both to stop shaking. With a sigh, Thompson handed me the closed file. Flipping through it myself, he buckled up and put the car in reverse.

"Looks like it's a mental thing," he yawned. "Old man was right. Don't fall asleep."

The files listed a few accounts of people found on the site. They were all unconscious, mostly high school age, dressed in uniform. Most were former students or teachers. They couldn't be woken in the building and upon getting them out they would wake and almost immediately die. Those that fell asleep on the grounds were safer though. Nonetheless, it was surely an odd case.

Thompson yawned. I glanced up at him. He was tired. I was tired. With an SCP like this, we probably shouldn't go in right now. If one of us were to fall asleep, it could be solved by merely pulling the other out, but if both of us were to fall asleep inside the building…surely, someone would rescue us. The Foundation wouldn't just leave us there, right?


	7. VII

VII

The building had a large front courtyard, surrounded by a metal fence. Several signs hung on the wire, warning people to stay out as well as warned about hazards on the property. The few tears in the fence proved that the warnings were occasionally ignored. These rips in the wire were wielded back together or covered with wooden planks. Thompson pulled the car up the fence, parking but keeping the car on to allow the headlights to shine onto the towering building.

"This is it…" he whispered.

The brick building stood at a tall three-stories. Every window was boarded up, blocking the view inside. There was center doorway was higher up, with staircase on either side, and a small balcony overlooking the courtyard. A large sprawl of graffiti decorated the wall of the balcony. I couldn't quite make heads or tails of what the sprawling letters meant. Vines appears over the roof, running along the walls and making every attempt to break into the building.

"Now what…?" I whispered.

Thompson slowly turned the key and the car sputtered a moment before shutting off. The lights dimmed slowly, shadowing the building. He looked at me a moment. It felt like he was expecting something of me or hoping that I would do something. I suppose he might have been unnerved by this building too, but I couldn't really read him correctly. He turned away quickly, giving out a deep sigh before opening his door. I followed, exiting the car. The doors closing echoed across the otherwise empty street.

"What are we doing?" I mumbled.

"We're just…checking," he shrugged, stepping toward the gate. "I've got the check lists."

Thompson opened the gate up quickly, shutting it just as quick after we'd both passed through. He handed me a small list taped to a clipboard. It was a list but not of names, rather descriptions of people. They were short, just little phrases like "white hat" or "long blond hair." It was weird, seeing descriptions and no names. These were people, weren't they?

"We just check off those on the list," Thompson nodded, leading me to the door, "and add anyone new."

"Who are these people?"

"Does it matter?"

I glared at him. He smiled at me. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or mocking me as usual. We entered to the smell of mothballs and dust. A dark rush of air flew passed us, brushing the old leaves on the ground in the courtyard. Again, once we entered, Thompson shut the door, locking it. Hearing the click of the locks securing, I felt chills run down my spine. I couldn't help but gulp.

"We can split up," Thompson offered.

"What about the spatial anomaly stuff?"

"Finished the report…turns out that was proved false. Meet back up in an hour?"

I sighed, nodding. Thompson went one way and I turned the other. Walking around, the echo of my footsteps surrounded me. As far as it echoed, it sounded as if someone was following me. I will admit, it made me look over my shoulder more than once. I peered into every room, expecting to find some hideous monster or creature but instead I typically found nothing but overturn desks and more graffiti.

I didn't feel a rush so I walked slowly, even with the feeling of being followed. I entered a room, and to my surprise, I see a person slumped over one of the desks. My natural instinct was to run over and check on them. Standing beside them though, I stopped. I stared down at this person, suddenly unsure what to do. It was a teenage girl, dark hair, fair skinned, dressed in an old-school uniform. Her eyelids fluttered as she was deep in dreams. My hand hovered over her shoulder. I wanted to try to help her but…

I took a step back, lifting the clip board to eye level. Skimming the list, I wanted to cry as I found her description near the middle. I raised a shaking hand and checked her off. I lowered the board, moving toward the door. I stopped, looking up at the clock above the chalkboard. It was frozen, mid-tick, near three o'clock. Lowering my eyes, I saw scrawled on the board in large, white, chalk letters: THE CHILDREN USED TO SING. At that moment, I thought I saw something dash by the doorway. As I turned toward the door, I heard the echoing of a school bell in my ears.

I spun around, trying to identify the source of the sound but it abruptly stops. Turning back to the board, I saw the list of names that had been written on my list. Looking back to my list, I found the page blank. I hate this place. Giving one last look at the slumbering teen, I left the room and continued down the hall. It seemed to go on forever. I couldn't stand the idea of searching every room alone, but I wasn't about to ask Thompson to chaperone me. He would laugh in my face.

Continuing down the hall, peering into the other classrooms, I found nothing out of the ordinary. Each room was a mess of debris, shattered desks, and less than coherent lessons written on the board. No more people sleeping. Nothing strange. Just an abandoned school. There's bunches of them across the country. I'd seen pictures, heard stories, all that good American education! I found myself walking faster. Was I really scared here?

A voice called out to me. I couldn't tell if it said my name – my real name – or if it was just some noise that drew my attention. I looked down at the end of the hall, listening to the wind blowing outside. I thought I could heard children playing in the courtyard, but I knew they was impossible. Abandoned. Remember that. I took a deep breath and began moving to the entrance again.

Thompson was waiting for me, tapping his foot and checking his watch with a cartoonish frown. I stepped up to him silently, grinning as I poked his arm. I could see the color drain from his face as he spun around to face me, dropping his clipboard. He opened his mouth to scream or something but it ultimately just hung open as he stared at me. Eventually, it shut tightly into a pout as he raised a finger at me.

"Don't. Do. That." He hissed words through gritted teeth as he bent own to get his board.

"How many did you find?" I commented.

"Three. You?"

I showed him my blank page.

"Oh…" he mumbled, sounding more annoyed than surprised. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah, one girl."

"She was on the list?"

"Yeah."

"Good, nothing new then," he shrugged, moving to unlock the door. "Let's get out of here before we get sucked in to this Twilight Zone episode."

"Huh?"

He stopped midblock, eyes lit up at he looked at me. I was unsure if I offended him or intrigued him. He moved away from the lock, pointing a finger at me.

"You know the Twilight Zone, yes?"

"What?"

"Twilight Zone…the show…from, you know, the 60s? You know it, right? It's important to me that you know what that is."

I grinned. He pursed his lips before giving me gritted teeth again. He gave a slight scoff before returning to the lock. It unlocked with ease, and we exited quickly. The cold outside world was quick to consume us and remind me how freezing we were prior to our arrival. How did the inside seem so much warmer than out here? Thompson cursed on his breath and darted for the car.

He paused, fumbling to unlock the car door, and looked up at me again.

"I swear if you're messing with me about the Twilight Zone, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"That's kinda rude," I calmly replied, smiling brightly.

He opened to speak again but the car began beeping at his lack of full attention, forcing him to retire the conversation for the moment. I stopped at the gate, looking through the wire at the towering building. The wind flew through the vines and boarded windows and escaping into the void. If I ever come back here, it'll be too soon.


	8. VIII

VIII

We drove until night. It was spectacular watching the lightest blues of the sky slowly shutter to bright oranges and yellows, surrounded by purpled clouds and swirling puffs of pink. The sun was behind us. The night wrapped around us as we drove into it until the sun set and the sky was black. Pinned holes of stars in the blackness. Headlights lit up the pavement, switching frequently between tar and rubble. I drove the beginning but Thompson drove the remaining, pulling us into the motel.

Another rundown mess with more than enough vacant rooms. The owner seems both eager and exhausted to greet us, pleasantly cooing at us, calling us the "young couple." We corrected them multiple times but the man kept going, even after we requested separate rooms. For a moment, I thought I could see Thompson blush as he grew more flustered trying to explain to the man that we were not a couple in any way. He didn't speak a word to me as we split up to our separate rooms.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. I could feel the shadows moving around me. I wanted to fall asleep but couldn't find that right spot, that right frame of mind where things were perfectly blank and free. Instead, here I laid, covers thrown loose and pillows over my head. Why couldn't I sleep?

 _"Follow this path…"_

I sat up, hearing the voice that so often haunts my dreams. I could feel the breeze of the woods again, but it was quickly overridden by the sirens and screams. One memory overriding another. One nightmare overtaking another. I could feel the air leaving me, heart racing and rational though fading. I leapt from bed and stepped outside. Needed to feel something real.

It took a moment for me to feel the gravel of the parking lot under my feet. I waited, standing there, until the pain was strong enough to silence the echoes of the past. I could feel the air flowing again, wrapping around me and shuddering against my skin. Real. This was real. This is what mattered. I held myself tight, trying to simply feel reality and collect myself from today. Another day at the Foundation.

"Another day in Hell?"

I lifted my head, spotting the same young woman from nights previous. Same outfit, same grin, but her lipstick was now purple and her hair was now different colors. She stood, leaned against our Jeep. Her eyes pierced me.

"Can't sleep?" she purred.

"What are you doing here, June?" I huffed. Sleep deprivation and flashback episode puts one in a bad mood.

"Like I said before," she nodded, approaching. "I'm here for you!"

"Why?"

"Because," her voice turned soft, like talking to a child, "you are like me. We both were being used by the Foundation. I, though, escaped and reclaimed myself. I am reborn and I want to share the good news."

"I hardly think working for the Insurgency is good news?"

"Why? Because the Foundation told you they were…the bad guys? That you should be afraid of it? Reject it? We're the good guys. We're here for a better future!"

"Yeah, good guys don't sound like that," I chuckled.

"Oh, thank god!"

I nearly screamed as Thompson threw an arm over my shoulder, leaning into me. He was dressed in a two-piece pajama, a lovely silk suit I'd imagine with thin stripes. Based on the peak of his tone, he'd just woken up. How he fell asleep so fast and was reawaken so quickly is beyond me. He grinned, looking at me.

"I thought you'd finally lost it, out here talking to yourself!" he chuckled. "Who's your new friend?"

"You don't even remember me, do you?" she hissed. "You monster."

"Been called worse," he shrugged.

"Shame our conversation was cut short by this…idiot," she continued, raising a hand.

Headlights suddenly turned on from the darkness, momentarily blinding Thompson and me. By the time the lights seemed to normalize, when we lifted out heads, the headlights and June were driving off. Thompson remained slightly slumped on me. He sniffled lightly before stepping away from me. I felt the weight of his arm leave me.

"She stop by often?" he yawned.

"Twice now," I replied. "I swear…I know her but I just can't place it."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, patting my shoulder. "Right now, sleep is the more important thing! Come! To sleep!"

He waved a pointed finger in the air before sauntering back to his room. He barely shut his door. I gently shut it on my way back to my own room. I laid on my bed, again staring at the ceiling. This time though, I felt the darkness coddling me and my eyes fluttering to sleep. Sleep for as peaceful as it lasts.


	9. IX

IX

I have found one of the strangest things about these SCPs is the normalcy of their appearance. One would hardly consider a mere book to be deadly or an old school to force people into a coma, and now we drive up to what looks like a completely normal looking hospital, yet according to the file Thompson so kindly read aloud to me, it has led to several fatal accidents.

"Now, with this SCP there's a dedicated site, right," Thompson yawned, haven taken over driving.

"Site 81 is listed on the file," I added, perusing the pages.

"Yeah, nice little facility. I've been there once. Looks like one of those…water treatment places, but it overlooks a lot of different SCPs in the area so lots of people too."

"Great, talking…"

"Don't worry too much. I'm the face of this operation," he grinned, so confident in his statement but at the same time no doubt eager for me to argue it. He glanced at me. I grinned but remained silent. "Really, nothing?"

"Is this another place I'm gonna need a gun for?"

"Most of these SCPs are safe or contained. There's only one Keter under their watch and it's pretty easy to steer clear from."

"What is it though? A monster? A weapon of mass destruction?"

"A portal to another world."

I stared at him. I was both surprised and not. Return of Thompson's growing famous grin.

"Do I want to ask?"

"It's actually kinda cool. I'd recommend looking up the file when you've got a chance…and clearance. 2935. Just when you think you've seen it all…there's a whole other dimension!"

"Is it a cool dimension?"

Silence. Thompson gulped and shrugged but didn't respond to the question. We continued driving. At some point, we drove past what I assumed to be the SCP hospital. At least ten stories tall, brick and fenced around the entire perimeter, including the parking lot. The front gate was protected by two large guards. Though the uniforms appeared generic for the town, I could still feel the aura of the Foundation.

"This town…feels sad."

"A lot of Foundation towns are like that. I mean, remember the last one? It was like the great depression up in there!"

"How much longer until we get to the facility?"

"About 3 hours."

I let out a long groan before slumping back into my seat. Thompson seemed to enjoy my slump back into tiredness as he smiled. Why does he enjoy tormenting me and more importantly, why do I let him get to me? I'm sure someone out there would say I secretly enjoy his tormenting or the attention. Just when I think he hates me and enjoys belittling me, he does something like back at Outpost 54, defending me against the scientist. What even are we? Partners? Friends? Coworkers?

"Site 81 looks after a lot of different SCPs. Some may seem like a joke but there are a few that are kinda freaky."

"Are we talking horror movie level freaky, tourist trap freaky or Foundation level freaky?"

"Bit of everything," he shrugged, leaning back.

"Any we can check on the way?"

"I mean, it's easier to check the SCPs at the Site."

"3 hours from now?"

Thompson pursed his lips, glaring at me. After a moment, he sighed loudly and as long as possible before running out of breath.

"Check the file," he motioned to the folder. "Maybe it mentions what else the site got that isn't stored on site."

I flipped through the several pages provided to us. I honestly have no idea where the files come from. They just seem to appear in our jeep in the morning after we finished our last assignment. Thompson seemed well versed in most of the SCPs regardless so the file itself was primarily for me or to remind Thompson of which number we were referring to.

"I'm sorry, is this one talking about a…" I squinted, rereading the file's description. "a temporal anomalous lime?"

"2540!" cheered Thompson. "Give me a hard one."

"This isn't a game…Wait? Is this a serious SCP!?" I gasped.

Thompson grinned, winking at me.

"Looks like most of these things are kept in storage on site," I mumbled, continuing through the file. "There's a few places near the site though. 2812, 1781, 2951?"

"Hmm," purred Thompson, "Let's see if I remember those…"

"I mean, I have the file," I prompted, waving the file.

"No! No hints!" he chuckled. "Let's see…2812…that's a weird one. It's got a 'A' and 'B', doesn't it?"

"1 and 2."

"Same thing!" argued Thompson, waving a finger. "Anyway, 2812 is a…Euclid?" I nodded. "It's a…building?"

"Limestone Business Center."

"No hints!" he shouted again, chuckling slightly. "It's something inside the building though, right? Makes monsters or just freaks?"

I shrugged, having not actually read the entirety of the file.

"1781 is…a movie thing, right?"

I waited.

"Is that the one where the actors change or the one where they kill you?"

"I'm sorry, what was that last one?" I gasped.

"So, it's the first one, got it," he nodded. "I'll tell you about 205 later. What was the last one?"

"2951."

"2…951," he hummed, tapping the steering wheel. "2951…that's another temporal one, isn't it? What is it with Site 81 and temporal anomalies?"

"Don't look at me," I shrugged, setting the files aside.

"Not sure if any of those are on our way, so it looks like we're sticking with the 3-hour drive. No detours for us this time."

"Right, this time," I yawned. "Think the Insurgency are gonna be over here, too?"

"They weren't at the last one."

"They were at our motel, though."

"True."

"So, you know what they're after?"

Thompson paused but shrugged. Based on his distant look out the front, I figured our conversation was over. I slumped slightly in the chair, shutting my eyes. Perhaps a nap would speed this trip for us.


End file.
